


Nightmares

by MadHattress



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And this was written during biology mostly, F/M, I haven't been past episode twelve ok, I wouldn't know, did they even ever get together?, i dunno, its probably not even compatible with canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHattress/pseuds/MadHattress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was only one person in existence he could never bring himself to lie to. And it was threatening, every night, to become his downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, look. This note is important. I literally just watched episode twelve the other day and haven't gotten any farther, so I dunno if this is even canon. All I know is that their relationship-ish thing died and then Rumplestiltskin found out that Belle threw herself out of a tower of some sort?
> 
> Or might not have. It depends on if Regina/The Evil Queen was lying I guess, and, as I said. I haven't gotten that far to find out. My friend said something happens in the season finale, but I wouldn't know.
> 
> So, uhm... can we just pretend this takes place in the fantasy world right after episode twelve, mmkay? And it's probably OOC, too. Just a bit, at least. I'm not sure. 
> 
> And if it doesn't exactly fit in with canon, at this point, I don't care. Just... maybe go easy on it, okay? I'm new to this Once Upon a Time thing.
> 
> That is all.

What had started out as a nightmare had soon increased to a constant torment, almost to the point of unbearability.

It was interesting, how the same setting each night could somehow succeed in making Rumplestiltskin, who prided himself in feeling anything at all as little as possible, driven to guilt.

It was indeed always the same tall, grey tower in a land he was previously unfamiliar of each night. He could memorize the entire world like a map in his head without ever visiting it while conscious. It was always the same horrifying event, too, another thing he hadn’t been present for (though his imagination was more than happy to fill in the blanks).

Of course, there was always a slight detail tweaked each night. Just a small change courtesy of his subconscious to make sure he never got bored.

Some nights, especially in the beginning, he would fall from the tower with her, never waking up until the ground was inches from his face. Morbid as it was, those were his favorites. It was much easier on his conscience, or whatever blackened stub was left of it. Somehow, if the deed was inflicted upon himself, it almost felt as if he were repaying whatever he owed her. Though of course it wasn’t his fault… of course not…

Other nights were not so… forgiving, for a lack of a better word. As the dreams progressed on each night, the guilt lessened, and his subconscious didn’t like that, he supposed. So it got creative.

He began to find himself at the base of the tower instead, just able to glimpse a silhouette of a woman totter and sway from side to side. She was leaning out a window midpoint between the clouds above and the ground. Perhaps to a bystander, she could have been simply taking in the view outside, but of course he knew the truth of what was about to transpire. 

Despite himself, he would beg and plea to nobody in particular to change her fate, to make it stop for just one night, but the pleadings fell upon deaf ears. She would fall, fall, fall out of the tower; her hands were spread out in a grim mockery of wings. Her dress, billowing in the wind, was her plume. He would try to look away, but he found his eyes glued to the figure until… well… until it was too late.

Her body would land near his feet every night, and he was certain this was purposeful; this grotesque image seemed desperate to engrave itself into his mind and drive him mad. If he were lucky (which sometimes, thankfully, he was) her eyelids would be closed shut. 

Most of the time, though, luck refused to be on his side.

Her lifeless eyes would bore into his, as if personally accusing him for her untimely demise.

Not my fault, he would tell himself, stepping away from the tower and the accursed body with each repetition of the phrase. 

It was impossible to escape and he knew this somehow. With each step he took, the dream world (and specifically her body) would follow him. Of course, this didn’t stop him from trying.  
Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my—

He woke up with the mantra fresh on his mind, heart racing. This was unusual, especially for him. He didn’t appreciate the reminder that even he possessed a heart, either. It made him feel… human. A feeling he hadn’t allowed himself for a long time.

Even in death, she still managed to push him to levels he didn’t want to go.

He’d repeat the words once more, just for certainty’s sake. “There’s no possibly way it was my fault. Her choice and her’s alone. I didn’t ask her to throw her life away; just to remove it from mine. It’s not…”

He could never force himself to finish the last sentence, for somewhere within himself, somewhere he hadn’t dared to visit in a long, long time, he knew these reassurances didn’t ring true.

It was said Rumplestiltskin was the most cunning man in the entire kingdom. It wouldn’t be exaggeration to say that his specialties lay in the realm of untruths. His tongue was indeed sharp enough to slice reality into whatever fit his fancy to sell to the masses, and he prided himself upon it.

But no matter how hard he wished it to be so, he could never lie convincingly enough to clear her death off his mind.

And so the dreams silently took their hold.


End file.
